The Survivalistas: Book 2.5- Mica
The Survivalistas- Teaser
Book 2.5- Mica
By Shandy Jo
Copyright 2014 Shandy Sanford
Cover art created by Shandy Sanford
Graphics from 123RF.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. While the places maybe real the author has used creative license.
Author's Note: In order to offer you my work free I could not afford to have my work professionally edited. If you find any misspellings, grammar issues or problems in general with this work please let me know. I look forward to hearing what you think, feel free to email me at momofjandc@gmail.com or just lay it all on the line and leave a review.
Mica trudged up the stairs to the front door of her foster families house. Getting home from work had been hellish, people were rioting and fighting in the streets. You knew it was bad when the Nice 'n Easy closed. She wondered if Theo, her manager, would take the price of the salad she'd snagged before leaving from her check or not. It would have just gone in the trash. She shrugged unlocking and opening the door, she didn't want the stupid job anyway. Her foster parents had made her get it said it would build character. Then took half her check each week to pay for his beer, even though they said it went toward bills or food or some other crap. Seriously they got money for putting a roof over her head from the government. Dropping her backpack to the floor, she pulled off her thick winter coat. Sure it was March and getting slightly warmer, but it could still freeze your nose off. Toeing off her mud and snow covered boots she picked her bag back up and tip toed to the bedroom she shared with her foster sister.
Her foster mother had taken Kelly, their biological daughter, to the Irish Festival over at the State Office Building. The little girl was obsessed with Toddlers and Tiaras, of course she had wanted to see who would be crowned Miss Ireland. That meant Mica would be blissfully free to eat in peace. At least she hoped so. There was a shuffle and the sound of someone bumping into things as she passed Frank and Helen's room. Even sick Frank had managed to drink himself stupid before noon. She'd been surprised when her foster father came down with the stomach bug that was going around. The man never got sick. She was pretty sure his blood was pure alcohol and any germs that ventured in were killed as soon as they touched his skin.
Sure the Altman's weren't perfect, but they were a hell of a lot better than her last family. Jimmy had been a bastard keeping control of his family by fear and strong arming. Showing up in the girls bedroom one night had been the last straw. She'd Taekwondo'd his ass, tied him up with a stuffed monkey puppet and called the cops. After one look at the frightened girls, Mica's big brown eyes, tousled light brown hair and the officer slapped the cuffs on Jimmy. All the while his wife had screamed at him and promised a divorce.
A loud crash brought her out of her unpleasant memory. Mica paused outside the door wondering if she should check on Frank, but passed if he was in a stupor she didn't want to deal with him. Entering her bedroom she shut the door, set her bag down on her bed and dug out her lunch and laptop. Powering on the laptop she, changed out of her work clothes and began munching on her pilfered salad. Sitting cross legged on her bed she pulled up Facebook, her time-line had blown up with links to news and YouTube videos of the chaos going on around the city. Pulling up a video in another tab she watched the thin window. Clearly taken on a cell phone, a man in a hospital gown attacked a young blond woman wielding a baseball bat and dressed in a mint colored gown. Completely under dressed for the weather, the girl shivered as she pummeled the man in the head with her bat. Blood and slush had stained the once pretty satin gown. Seconds after the woman moved out of frame the video ended.
A bang on the front door startled Mica, causing her to jump. She listened and it came again followed by rapid knocking. Scrambling off the bed she hurried out to the front door, peering through the window she groan. Frank's cousin and sometimes dealer, Bug, stood on the faded Welcome mat. He banged again and she jerked open the door.
A huge grin appeared on his face, upon seeing her. “Hey sweetie your dad around?”
Mica gritted her teeth, she hated being called sweetie and he knew Frank was in no way her dad. “He's still sick and sleeping.”
Wide eyes blinked behind the coke bottle glasses that had given him his nickname. “Well he owes me some money, so I'll just pop in and wake him up to talk.”
Of course the world was going to hell in a hand basket and Bug wanted his money. Whatever, not her problem. Mica pulled the door open and gestured for him to enter. “He's in his bedroom.”
Nodding a thanks, Bug stomped down the hall leaving a muddy trail behind him. Mica sighed knowing she would have to clean that up before Helen got home and freaked. Closing the door, Mica headed to the kitchen to get the mop. From the hall she heard the bedroom door open, then a strangled, “Get the fuck off me!”
Mica raced back to the hall to find Bug and Frank struggling on the floor. Frank looked pissed and seemed to be trying to bite Bug's face off. In a moment of uncertainty she consider leaving them there to fight it out, then Frank bit into Bug's arm. Bug screamed and Mica instinctively slammed the mop handled against Frank's head. He let go and turned toward her. Blood dripped down over his chin, an unspeakable rage contorted his pale face.
Mica dropped the mop, with a whimper. “Frank.” She backed away, never had she seen him like this. Frank was an easy going guy, sure he drank to much and smoked a little pot, but over all he was a good dad and nice man. Her back hit the wall and she continued to move her hand bumping the familiar handle of her field hockey stick. “I'm so sorry.” She whispered as self preservation kick in and she raised the stick swinging it will all her might. There was a dull sickening thunk and Frank dropped to the floor blood pouring from the gash in his skull.
“Jesus.” Bug muttered, scurrying down the hall and out the front door, slamming it behind him.
Mica stared at the prone form laying in a pool of blood on the floor. Oh God, she'd killed him. Maybe not, maybe she'd just knocked him out. The paramedics. She needed to call nine-one-one. That thought got her moving. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone, dialing as soon as it was in her hand. Pressing it to her ear she waited, and heard the tell tale busy signal. No. Mica shook her head. It couldn't be busy, what the hell. It was nine-one-one, it was for emergencies this was an emergency. Tears crept to the corners of her eyes, as her heart hammered in her chest. Stabbing the power button, she hung up then turned it back on and tried again. Still busy.
Helplessness crawled over her and she sank down to sit on the floor. Again she tried to call nine-one-one and got no answer. Outside sirens wailed, for a brief moment she thought about going outside and trying to flag down someone, but dismissed it knowing the crazy going on out there.
Then a thought filtered through her mind, she could call Piper. Her big sister would know what to do. She dialed Piper's cell number it rang then went to voice mail. In a shaky voice she left a message telling her what happened and that she needed help.
Closing her eyes she summoned up her courage. Her parents had raised her and Piper to be a strong and self-sufficient. She could do this. Helen and Kelly would be home soon, if the cops weren't coming she couldn't let the girls see Frank before she could explain. Climbing shakily to her feet she set the phone on the counter. Steeling herself she moved to the hall. Frank lay just like she'd left
him sprawled on the hall floor. Drawing a deep breath she fought down the urge to freak out and quickly grabbed his bare feet. Frank was a small guy, but Mica was only a hundred and twenty herself so it took a lot of tugging to move him back into the bedroom. His skin squeal as she dragged him across the hard wood and Mica winced. As soon as she had him in far enough that she could close the door she dropped him and toss a blanket over the body. Closing the door she turned looking at the mess in the hall. There was no way she could stand looking at that, picking up the mop she began cleaning. Would it look bad when /if the cops ever came? Yes, but she didn't care it had been self-defense.